has looked over the trip photos and made her selection, though the accompanying narrative was sparse. What can you say, though? We went both to the aforementioned Pannikin and the beach three times in twenty-four hours. Bean had fun deploying the $25 in spending money we gave her at the New Age kitchfest that is the Encinitas flea market and still had money left over to purchase a black panther from Pannikin's coffee-and-curio shop. The waves the first day were great for everything, including potentially treacherous body surfing out by the line-up, where I dodged the boardriders with a few other swimmers, including a teenager from Indiana who praised my technique as part of a disturbingly intense effort to befriend me. Speaking of Indiana, I bought Skylar a ninety-nine cent Hoosier State magnet right before departing I-10 for I-8 on the drive out. Now that's
a score. We went to a different beach -- the one closest to Pannikin -- the second day and discovered that the surf was much, much rougher, though fine for Bean's shoreline boogie boarding, with a rip current that demanded inhuman exertions on the part of anyone who didn't want to end up two miles north. We all tired more quickly than we did on Saturday. This meant, however, that the sandcastle-building was more involved and the familial bonding more tactile:
Two things trip me out about this picture: 1) that my incisors look even pointier and less recognizably human than usual; and 2) that Bean, aware that I was trying to take a picture of the two of us together, made a deliberate expression that is not one of her typical faces, indicating that she was using her reflection in the camera lens to refine her pose.
As Kim's own entry about our trip indicates, she spent much of her time contemplating what it would take for her to move to the Encinitas area, having decided that she actually prefers San Diego County to her native Northern California beach country, since you can swim in the ocean without freezing to death. She alternated, in other words, between wave-drenched bliss and waves of bitterness inspired by the realization that short of selling her soul -- or selling me out for a less financially challenged partner -- her chances of becoming an owner of property on the California coast were not high. That's the hard part with our short trips to the Golden State. When we go for five days or more, Kim's desire for the domestic starts to overwhelm her dissatisfaction with life in the landlocked desert. The briefer the trip, however, the less she feels the need for a return to normalcy. Not to mention that Tucson looks a lot better in November or March than it does on Labor Day.
Well, it's time to hit the "bagel place" -- Einstein Brothers on Ina -- for sustenance and then proceed mallward to find new sandals for Skylar. Enjoy your surrogate May Day and remember how little the Republican Party respects the hard work of ordinary men and women making less than $100,000 a year.